Uncle Dante
by callrnequeen
Summary: The way Dante seen it, he had two choices here: He could give the child up, all the while knowing good and damned well that he would never see him again, and hope to whatever higher being that was out there listening to him that the kid would have a good life. Or...or, he could keep this child, his brother's son, and not have to wonder.


**A/N:** So...I'm not dead... Uh, yeah, so the _Devil May Cry_ fandom part of tumblr hosted a secret santa this year and this is the product of that. Figured I may as well post this here so as not to hold out on you all since its been like 5 years. Just to warn yall, this is kinda angsty, and I'm more of a humor/romance kind of girl so never done anything like this, but hopefully nobody comes for my ass for this lmao. I'm still debating, but I may just end up continuing this if I get enough motivation to do so. Also, totally go check out tumblr, 'cause I got some awesome DantexLady fanart out of this secret santa (honestly the only reason I participated in it tbqh), and I want everyone to see it. Oh, and I missed you guys! Enjoy!

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 **..**

 **Uncle Dante**

 **..**

There was something about hospitals nowadays that Dante just could not stand.

When he was a young boy, hospital visits consisted of height and weight checks, the occasional shots, and, if he whined hard enough, he would maybe even get a lollipop or a cool sticker when the appointment was over. When he was younger, the worst that could ever happen was always quickly mollified by his mother's warm embraces and her soft kisses to his forehead while she, at the same, commended her eldest son, his twin brother with phrases like _"What a big boy you are!"_ and _"You didn't cry, not even once!"_

On those occurrences, more likely than not, the day would end with both boys tousling on the bedroom floor of their two-storey home, his older brother, having pinned him down, gloating above him about how he had gotten their mother's praise and about _what an absolute baby_ he had to be to cry over a little thing like a flu shot. Those times, Dante, with tears in his soft baby blue eyes, would always swear vengeance against his older brother, would vow that he wouldn't cry the next time, that _he_ _would be the big boy_ _and win his mother's approval_.

Back during that time, he felt neither love nor hate for hospitals. They were always just something in the back of his mind that he could think back on and connect to his mother's warmth, was one of the many things that sparked he and his older twin's sibling rivalry.

Nowadays though…

Nowadays, when his mother was dead, when his brother was dead, and his bastard of a father was (presumed) dead, Dante held nothing but an intense antipathy for them. And it was quite an easy thing to attain, the hatred for hospitals that was, when the last two times he had stepped foot in one he was watching his mother die, for the first, and was identifying his brother's corpse, for the second. For those reasons alone, what else could he hold for them but the highest contempt? They only served as a reminder of what he had lost, served as a confirmation of what he would never get to have again. He could do nothing but associate them with his internal pain.

Except… _except_ for this visit.

As he followed aimlessly behind the woman in the pale-colored scrubs- _the nurse_ , Dante reminded himself, though not out of consideration for the woman, but just as a way to pull himself somewhat out of the numbness he could feel himself sinking into and give himself something, _anything_ to _focus on_ \- he couldn't help but ponder on just how different this visit was. How unbelievably lifechanging this visit could prove to be. How, instead of suffering the loss of a loved one, he could possibly, _maybe_ , be gaining someone in its place.

And how incredibly terrifying it all was.

He paid no mind to the lenient shade of cream painted on the walls that passed him by on his journey to his destination, nor the portraits of flowers and scenery put upon them in an attempt to make the place feel more welcoming. The soft rustling of the woman's scrubs and the muted rubbing of his leather jacket on his jeans, the sounds of her non-slip shoes and his boots on the linoleum flooring that echoed as they walked in the empty hallway, it was all background noise to his otherwise preoccupied mind. However, no matter how inattentive of his surroundings he seemed to be, he at once noticed when the strong aroma of chemicals and antiseptic that he was used to hospitals smelling like shifted into something soothing. Something _softer._

"It's just up ahead, sir." the wo- _the nurse_ assured him.

"Right…" Dante couldn't remember replying through the knot in his throat.

Up ahead, about five yards or so, the right side of the hallway altered from wall to a thick square of reinforced glass, making the room behind it clear as day for anyone to see, if only they so wished.

Dante, not being one such person, preferred instead to keep his sight in front of him. The ice-blue of his stare was just as unyielding as the rigidity of his spine as he passed by the window, eyes steady on a point above the white shock of hair on the nurse's head and focused on what seemed like the never-ending depths of the bright hallway. Try as he might, however, there was no way he could completely shut out the noises resounding from the opposing side of the window-the hustle and bustle of people moving about, the sometimes soft cooing, the _cries_ …It was all becoming a bit too much for him.

Mercifully, or perhaps not, the two came to a stop three doors down from what his mind was slowly coming to realize was a nursery, and before his mind could complete the thought process, he was stepping into a generously decorated room. As he gradually took in his surroundings, what appeared to be some kind of waiting room, he failed to take notice of his escort stepping in after him, letting the door close behind her entrance, and consequently, leaving him effectively trapped.

Slowly, as if to pause time just for a little while longer, the young man of only nineteen took in the suitably spaced area. Unlike the hall, the walls here were painted a near-perfect imitation of the sky on a bright, sunny day. The strategically positioned tables and their accompanying chairs throughout the room did well to compliment the white, fluffy clouds that served as a foreground to the scene the wall seemed to want to recreate. By almost every randomly placed cloud was the shadow of a stork, its beak heavy with the weight of each colorful bundle it carried, the wide spread of its wings forever frozen in a journey it would never get to fulfill. Really, the more he stared at the scene, the more he felt he would lose his fucking mind.

Behind him, as if not to startle him with the reminder of her presence, the nurse delicately cleared her throat.

 _Georgia_ or _Glory_ \- she had told him her name once over the phone and again when he had arrived at the _Gracious Hospice of Fortuna_ at almost two o 'clock that early morning- was truly a sight to behold. The stark white of her hair was a great contrast to the dark-brown of her skin, and as he turned to face her, her kind face regarded him with nothing but the utmost patience. Though she looked to be a woman in her late twenties, or, at most, her early-thirties, her hazel eyes shined with wisdom that could only be attained through decades of experience.

And it were those eyes, eyes that had to have seen others like him in his current predicament countless times before, and yet, looked at _him_ and seen _him_ \- _only him and his pain the confusion and the hurt_ \- that kept him from totally losing it thus far. It was actually…to be completely truthful, a bit refreshing to be seen in such a way. It had been a long while since anybody had looked at him and didn't see somebody else, that saw him for himself.

Hell, even _he_ couldn't remember the last time he had looked at _himself_ that way.

"If you would like," 'maybe Glory but was probably Georgia' started, "You may have a seat. I've already alerted the midwife of your presence, and we have a lawyer on the way with the appropriate documentation. Whether you decide to keep the child or give him up to foster care, there will be papers that will need to be signed."

"…"

Garnering no other response from the boy besides a tired stare, the woman brushed her pale locks away from her just as weary eyes. With the barrier that was her hair no longer in the way, she took a good look at this boy, one whom was forced by a sequence of unfortunate events, to grow up too soon.

His platinum blond mane fell in an unkempt mess about his head, and the black t-shirt under the crimson leather jacket he wore to protect himself from the chilly winter air, was rumpled. Overall, he looked as though he had just rolled out of bed and pulled on the closest articles of clothing that he could get his hands on, like he made the five-hour long drive from Capulet City to Fortuna without any thought to check his appearance after he had received her phone call the previous night. Though, judging by the dark bags that hung like a burden underneath each of his tired eyes, whether he had actually been asleep when she had called him with the news, was still up for debate.

With those last thoughts on her mind, the dark-skinned woman fought to keep a frown off her face. She feared that he would see the softness of her eyes, the downward turn of her mouth, and think it pity. She did not pity him. On the contrary, she greatly admired his strength. In her almost twenty-seven years of working in this field, she had seen a multitude of people fall apart for much less. Still, regardless of his perseverance, it was a shame that the boy continually experienced heartbreak time and time again. There had been tragedy after tragedy, and now, there was this massive responsibility to be thrust upon his too young shoulders.

After a moment's notice of feeling like she had once again gained control of her expression, she let loose a quiet sigh, opting to speak again, "Sir-"

"I want to see him." The boy finally spoke. And though he looked positively drained, his tone was defiant and brooked no argument.

If he had surprised her with the demand, she did not outwardly show it. Maybe she was expecting it, or perhaps, was hoping for it. Either way, he wanted to see the child for himself, wanted to see the last little piece that remained of his deceased older brother.

In response to the demand, the compassionate woman gave a soft smile, one aimed to reassure him. "I will have somebody bring him in in a moment's ti-"

With a ferocious shake of his head, Dante interrupted before she could finish. "No." he reiterated, eyes looking more sharp than what they had been before, "I want to see him. Now." Then, as an afterthought, like he was just now remembering that this woman had been nothing but kind to him, he added an expressive, " _Please_."

There was a brief moment in which all that was heard in the room were the muted pops and clicks of the working heating unit. Then, after gauging the tenseness of his shoulders and the deepening furrow of his brow, as if he were waiting in preparation for her to deny him any further, the nurse gave a simple nod in acquiesce. At the gesture, Dante relaxed his posture some. His brow was still a bit furrowed, and his shoulders stiff, but it was not as much so as before.

"Wait here, and I will be right back." The woman reassured. With one graceful hand, she gestured to one of the many chairs residing about the room, "Why don't you make yourself comfortable and have a seat in the meantime, hm?"

Although it was posed as a suggestion, Dante could recognize it as the gently spoken order that it was. Besides the fact that he was not an argumentative person by nature, the idea of getting off his feet was kind of appealing to his ears. And so, taking note of the seat nearest him, he went to it and sat, albeit slowly, because the chair was just as uncomfortable as it looked.

With the promise to return shortly, the woman, whose name he couldn't quite remember, turned and exited the room, leaving him alone with his rapidly wandering thoughts.

And wander his mind did, though his thoughts remained along the topic of his older brother.

After their mother's murder, both he and his twin were placed into foster care. The system was not at all good to them, so after a couple of years, they left. You would think, a plan hatched by a pair of eleven-years-olds wouldn't get them far, but it did. In fact, it got them out of their foster house in Melrose, to a place called Valmont, a bustling city more than two-hundred miles away from where they had been. The only unfortunate event to come of their escape was their unexpected separation, and though they had found each other a few years down the line, their life experiences away from one another had put them on different paths, and because of that they could no longer quite see eye-to-eye on certain matters.

While Dante had been okay, not content, with the slow-but-steady-going process of seeking out his mother's killers, Vergil- being the hot head he had been since childhood- was adamant on hunting them down and taking them out with or without his twin's support. In the end, he had proved successful and had avenged his mother…but he had lost his life in the process.

Before his thoughts could wander more on the painful subject, the door to the room creaked open. His head, which he unknowingly had down, snapped up at the sound. His eyes, which had been staring unseeingly at his tightly clasped hands, now focused with rapt attention at the sight ahead of him. And those same hands, hands that were calloused and slightly chilled- not from the frigid outdoors he had just come from, but of something else entirely- were now braced on the arms of his chair. Though it crossed his mind to, he did not stand, because with the way he was feeling he wasn't certain if his legs would be able to hold him up for very long.

When the door opened further and in rolled a white-wrapped bundle, plainly visible through the clear bassinet that carried it, Dante lost his breath entirely, and was thankful to himself for his decision to stay sitting.

With one hand holding the door open and the other on one side of the bassinet, the nurse stepped in after, allowing the door to once again close behind her. The closer the two of them came to him, the tighter the feeling in his chest became, and he was aware that the nurse was speaking, but Dante only had eyes for the infant, and anyway, it was just too difficult to hear anything over the harsh _thump-thump_ of his pulse in his ears.

The little cart finally came to a gradual stop directly in front of him, and Dante let go of the breath he had been unconsciously holding.

The child- _his brother's son, his nephew_ \- was a sight to behold. He was small, and though Dante wasn't around enough babies to know if that was normal or a bad thing, it worried him. A good portion of his face wasn't visible- partly because of the too big blue-and-white-striped cap that covered his head and reached down to his forehead, just above his closed eyes, and partly by the plain blanket that held his little body snug to keep him from moving about that covered his chin and a bit of his mouth- but his chubby cheeks were visible and glowed a healthy rosy hue, so he supposed that was a good sign.

In his slumber, the baby let out a soft huff of breath accompanied by a tiny whine, and Dante felt the tightness in his chest let up to be replaced by something warmer.

"Would you like to hold him?"

Startled out of his observations, because he had truly forgotten there was somebody else in the room besides him and the little one, the teenager looked up at the woman with entranced, glassy eyes. Her eyes were still as soft as they had been since he had met her at the entrance doors to the hospital, but the light brown flecks that made up the hazel of her irises were more prominent as she smiled down at him. After a moment's hesitation, he looked back down at his nephew, the warmth in his chest growing warmer still, and nodded.

He had never held a baby before, and so, he let her direct him on what he should do. There was a lot of repositioning as far as his arms went, and he was a little stiff with the worry that he was doing just about everything wrong, but now, he was holding his nephew in his arms for the first time and his heart felt undeniably _full_.

"His name is _Nero_ ," the nurse finally informed him after a moment of watching the heartwarming scene unfold in front of her. To that, his steely-toned gaze snapped up to her and held still, " _Sylvia_ …Nero's mother, that is…she gave him the name right before she passed, said it was the wish of the child's father."

At the information, he slowly dropped his stare back down to what he now knew to be _Nero_. He listened with rapt attention as the woman continued to speak, telling him small, but just as important details, things like his height, his weight. And then, when she ran out of the little things, he was told the big ones, like how hectic the delivery was, the relief everyone felt when, after hours of a difficult labor, the baby was finally born and his loud cries filled up the entire room…and how Sylvia's smile was wobbly but still beautiful as she held her newborn for the first and last time.

Before she could reminisce anything further, the phone in the pocket of her scrub top buzzed to life and with a small apology to excuse herself, she removed the offending object from her pocket, flipping it open before she put it up to her ear. "This is Gloria," she announced by way of greeting. Moving a few feet from the pair as to not disturb him with her conversation, she spoke for some time, giving what sounded like direction to the person on the other end of the line before, with a hum of approval, she snapped the phone shut.

Turning back to the pair, the nurse- _Gloria_ \- announced her departure, her reassurance that she would give him time alone with the infant before she returned with her caller falling only on half-listening ears.

Sensing the young man's slow withdrawal from the present, she gave one last lengthy look at the uncle-nephew duo, and hoped only for the best for the two of them. Giving a small smile that only she would be aware of, she made her exit, feeling oddly optimistic.

Dante, meanwhile, was a maelstrom of mixed emotions.

It was all hitting him at once, the knowledge that all he had was Nero but the fact that it wasn't exactly true the other way around. The truth of the matter was, it wasn't fair for him to want this child. Because, honestly, what could he offer him? Losing his mother at birth, never getting the chance to know either of his parents… Nero had already been through so much in the small amount of time he had been in the world, and he deserved the chance to live a happy life. If Dante kept him, could he guarantee that he would be able to give him that? Nero was a baby, so the chances of him being adopted were much higher than it was for he and his brother, meaning there was a higher probability of him being taken into a good family, one that could provide for his every need.

The more he thought about it, the more the decision to give Nero away made sense. The admission only did well to make both his head and his heart hurt and, coming unbidden to him, he could feel the bitter sting of tears take root behind his eyes.

" _What the hell do I do?"_ he internally demanded of himself, feeling his shoulders tremble and his face grow hot. It was all becoming too much for him- _finding out about Nero, coming to love him in only a few short moments before he was given the harsh reminder that this moment may be the last time he would ever get to see him_ \- and for the first time since releasing his brother's ashes to the sea a near two months ago, Dante felt the familiar wet heat of a tear make a trail down the side of his face.

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Nero gave a small grunt before slowly cracking his eyes open. The infant blinked once, and then again, before, very slowly and with squinted eyes, he lifted his gaze up to the one holding him and Dante was bombarded with the familiar shade of blue _just like his brother's_ -

And Dante knew _at once_ what he was going to do.

It was probably a selfish decision, not giving him up, and this baby might even grow up to resent him if he fucked up, but it would just have to be a chance that he would have to take. He wouldn't be giving his only family up, he decided, couldn't do it, and the thought wouldn't cross his mind again. And so, it was there, while he sat in an uncomfortable chair in a room with just the two of them, his nephew squinting up at him through long pale lashes, that he silently vowed to himself, to his brother, and to a woman he didn't know, that he would give this child the best life he could give him or he would die trying.

"Don't worry, kid, I got you," he reassured, voice thick with emotion, but as steady and _confident_ as it was ever going to be. With an unhurried maneuver- because he still wasn't quite confident when it came to holding babies without the fear of dropping them- he held Nero up to his face, blue eyes locked on an identical pair to his own as he declared, " _We got this_."

And, like he could understand the depth of those words, like he knew of the promise in them, Nero blinked up at him once again, eyes still squinted softening up a bit at the edges, one corner of his mouth- made visible by the new position he was in- turning up just a bit…

…and he smiled.

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 **A/N:** Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, you guys.


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